"…May you incarnate as a worm in your next life, and may your Bura Karma triple tenfold."
The line occasionally crackled from the bundle of curses exploding from the other side.
"Mr. Patel, please, you must understand," Yoo Song said, his voice honey-smooth as, with a motion, he slicked back his glossy dark hair. "This investment is not just numbers on paper, as you might presume. It's a great deal of financial security. Given your advanced age, this might be your only chance to pass down something to your grandchildren," he said.
"Security?" the old man's voice was sharp. "You took my savings. My life savings. You cold-hearted liar."
"Please, sir, don't use such harsh words. You entrusted me because you saw potential, did you not? These things take time. A few months, perhaps, and your money triples."
"Triples?" the man snapped. "You think I am a fool from the street? I trusted you because you spoke like silk. But you are poison. I want it back. Every rupee," the old man barked.
"I understand your frustration," Yoo Song replied. "But contracts are contracts. You agreed. You signed. And we can't simply undo it now, can we?"
"I did not agree to sign away my life. I did not sign for all these lies."
The silence dragged for a few seconds longer than necessary.
Then Yoo Song chuckled. "Sir, let's not raise our voices. Stress is not good for a man your age."
"You dare mock me."
"No, no, never. I'm only trying to remind you… patience is a virtue. Let me do my work. You will thank me later, I can guarantee you that."
The old man's breathing was more ragged. "You think this is just about money. You think I am weak because of age. But you have stolen from me. And for that…"
"Sir…"
"…for that, may your soul wander endlessly without ever finding rest."
Yoo Song raised a brow. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me, thief. I curse you. May your tongue, that always defaults to lies, choke you. And as for those hands of yours that delight in counting stolen bills, let them be bound in chains. May you feel despair and know what it is to beg. You will seek help, and no one will show you mercy… such is your fate."
"Sir, please, don't be ridiculous. It's late. You're upset, I understand. How about we talk tomorrow," Yoo Song said as he rubbed his temples.
"No tomorrow. Tonight you will die. And when you awake, you will be somewhere far, far away from here."
And with that, the line went dead.
Yoo Song scoffed. He tossed his phone on the bed. "Crazy old man. Probably watches too many dramas. The things Bollywood can do to a man." He shook his head.
But as he lay back, he muttered to himself. "A curse? What nonsense. I am Yoo Song, the one known as Phantom Sefirat. Feared throughout Seoul. I'm untouchable."
Night came quickly, and darkness spread just as fast. Yoo Song was fast asleep on one of the couches in his mansion, with the 75-inch TV screen still playing in the background.
Unbeknownst to him, at 12:00 AM, all the lights in the house suddenly tripped off, and he was engulfed by an unusual hue of darkness.
---
*Rattle* *Clank*
The sounds of chains rattling echoed in the surrounding area as Yoo Song slowly opened his eyes.
"What the..." His wrists were in shackles. His ankles too. The surface of cold iron cut deep into his tender skin.
Around him, in their own respective cells of twos and threes, dozens of men and women sat on the floor. Like him, they were all chained, sharing the atmosphere of silence. The air smelled of sweat, dirt, and fear mixed together.
"What the hell is this?"
A boy beside him whispered, "Don't talk too loud. They'll beat you."
"Who?"
"The traders."
"Traders?" Looking around and seeing the condition he was in, Yoo Song's heart pounded as a thought crossed his mind. "Surely this isn't real, right? No, this is a dream. It has to be."
The boy gave him a hollow look. "Dream? I can't remember the time I had a good dream." He sighed.
Yoo Song tugged at his chains. "Impossible. This isn't…"
Soon the heavy door creaked, leaking golden sunlight into the dark cells.
A few men entered, armed with thick whips in hand.
"Quiet!" one of them barked.
All the captives lowered their heads simultaneously.
Yoo Song stared at them, then back at his own shackles. His voice turned low, trembling. "No. No, no, no. This isn't happening. I was in Seoul a moment ago, wasn't I? I was just home, wasn't I? What is this?… What is this?!"
The boy whispered again. "If you keep talking, you'll die."
Yoo Song swallowed hard. "Where am I…? Where am I?!"
The boy shook his head. "Shit, don't ask. Just wait, would you."
The traders walked past, counting heads.
From the shadows, moving darkness twisted into a conduit from which a figure emerged.
It was the old man.
Yoo Song's breath caught. "You—"
The old man smiled faintly, stroking his chin. His voice was soft but carried across the hall. "How does it feel now, thief? Don't the chains look good on you?"
Yoo Song's eyes widened. "This… this isn't possible. You're not real."
The old man chuckled softly. "For them, I am not. In their eyes, I am nothing but air and shadow. But for you…" He leaned closer, his voice lowering to a soft whisper. "For you, I am as real as those chains on your wrists."
"So for the next few seconds that I am here, you better get used to it," he said, raising his head.
Yoo Song shook his head, glancing at the others. None of them reacted; they were frozen in time. They kept their eyes fixed ahead, to where the unmoving traders stood, their expressions vacant. "They don't see you. They can't hear us." Yoo Song's mind was in disarray.
"Of course not," the old man said. "What's my business with them? This conversation belongs only to you and me." The old man looked intently at him before smirking.
"Didn't I tell you, when you wake up you'll be far, far away from where you were?"
"You...You cursed me?"
The old man smirked. "Words tend to be very cheap nowadays. You of all people should know that well. But some words are able to do more damage than any lie possibly could. Yet some are capable of much, much worse. They can directly interfere with the soul. Now, if that's not quite peculiar, I don't know what is."
Yoo Song's chest heaved heavily. "Send me back! Now!" he demanded.
The old man tilted his head. "Back? Back to cheat more? Back to steal more people's livelihood? Over my 8.4 million incarnations…"
"Tsk… I didn't steal! I… I only used my skills. It's their fault for believing."
"Doesn't serve as an excuse to pitch them into despair."
"Okay, stop! Stop this madness!"
The old man's eyes glinted. "No. Absolutely not. For you, it's only the beginning."
Yoo Song lunged forward, but the chains yanked him back. As he fell to the ground, a small cloud of dust rose.
The old man chuckled, rubbing his chin slowly. "You can fight, struggle even… Not like it would make any difference. My advice would be to get used to these chains now rather than later."
Yoo Song roared, "No need, 'cause I'll just escape! Not like you can keep me locked up here forever!"
"Escape?" The old man's smile deepened. "From this? Even when in chains your tongue doesn't cease to tell lies. Surely even you don't believe what comes out of your mouth, or do you? What does it matter? You can try to escape, for all I care, that one is on you. My mission here is already accomplished, which is removing scum like you from the Earth."
At that moment, time unfroze. The traders barked orders. The captives bowed their heads. The old man's form shimmered, fading like smoke.
Yoo Song's voice cracked. "Wait! Don't leave me here!"
The old man's final words lingered in the air. "Enjoy your sentence in this new world, shameless thief. I would try not to make so much of a ruckus if I were you. It wouldn't be surprising if you lost your head the very next moment. The people of this world aren't as patient as this old man, you know."
And then he was gone.
---
The boy beside Yoo Song whispered again. "Don't draw attention. They'll kill you first."
Yoo Song stared at the empty air where the old man had stood. His voice trembled. "No. I'll find him. I'll make him undo this. Yes, that's right, I'll find a way. I always do."
"What are you rambling on about now?" The boy looked at Yoo Song as he scratched his head.
The sounds of heavy chains clinked where Yoo Song sat.